


Shadow Sweethearts

by herbailiwick



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-30
Updated: 2012-04-30
Packaged: 2017-11-04 13:51:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/394591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herbailiwick/pseuds/herbailiwick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fic about <a href="http://finalproblem.tumblr.com/post/16962160223/loose-threads">gunman 3 and gunman 2</a> (this links to a Reichenbach theory), who I have named Albert Johnson (blond) and Stanley Hill (brunet) respectively. Told from Albert's point of view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadow Sweethearts

Jim Moriarty personally took Stan and me out clothes shopping to get us ready for the kidnapping. I'd never realized how fun shopping could be before. Jim Moriarty is playful and has all the means at his fingertips to go on playing forever. He'd get bored before forever, though, no matter what the game. It's nice while it lasts, though.

As we looked for clothes, he would periodically show us video clips or still images of Holmes and Watson, emphasizing their wardrobe and mannerisms. The attention to detail was already a little excessive, we could tell, but the boss tended to get excessive when it came to Holmes. 

"Darling," he said to Stanley, "you're not as pretty as Sherlock, but you've got that ethereal, arrogant look about you that I could just eat up." He patted Stan on the shoulder, and I think Stan began to blush.

I suddenly wished I'd had Jim Moriarty's way with words. I don't, though. At least not when it comes to romance.

"And Al, I've known you for years," Boss went on. "But you're looking rather sweet in that jumper, don't you think so, Stanley? I almost wouldn't think of you as a cold-blooded killer." His eyes shone delightedly, and I felt my face heating at the attention as well. 

"Thank you," I said with a smile. I believed, in that moment, that I would work for the man if he switched to paying me only in compliments. He's so smooth and magnetic he makes grown men feel like fools. 

"Yeah, the jumper works for you, Al," Stanley said, giving me an appraising look that must have made me blush even harder. 

"You two are sweet," Jim said bluntly. "You guys could be like the shadow Sherlock and Watson." He grinned widely at me. "I think Stan'd do anything for you. Isn't that rather stupid?" 

Stan looked away for a moment, but then met my eyes. "Yeah, boss," he said. "It's stupid. But I would."

Jim clapped his hands with glee. "Well, I approve of what you're wearing, boys. Go strip and we'll head to the register."

***

Stan and I were quickly becoming friends, and we'd flirted a bit since we'd met just a couple months before. We weren't sure of what we wanted, though, I supposed. He'd just come out of an abusive relationship with a girl, and I'd never really dated much. But we'd been waiting to see if things would come together for us. 

Jim decided to have us stay in a little flat as if we really were the shadow John and Sherlock. I look like Watson and Stanley looks like Holmes, or at least we look closer that way than the other way around, but Stan's my fanboy.

I've done many undercover operations for people, including a few who were as terrifying as Jim, though none as pleasant as him when he's in an obliging mood. Stanley is new to all of this. He's used to the straight assassination with none of the acting, which takes a different kind of method, but I could see he was learning already.

The couple weeks we spent in preparation for our roles were pleasant. I actually felt like I had a home for once, when I saw his shoes in the corner or saw him asleep on the couch in front of the telly. He would offer me tea and, once, he even gave me a rather good foot massage when I'd been walking around all day with the boys at the Yard. 

I knew I was preparing for something big, and that it was going to take a lot, but it felt exceedingly comfortable to live with Stan. 

Two days before the kidnapping, I had to finally ask him. I could tell he wasn't going to, though I knew he'd say yes if I did. "Stan?" I sipped at the tea he'd made.

"Yeah, Al?" he turned down the telly, looking at me with his worshiping eyes.

I sat a bit closer, leaning in. I put my hand on his shoulder, caressing the slightly silky material of his too-tight shirt. "I'm ready to be with you, I think. How about you?"

Stan drew my hand into his, pulling it off of his shoulder. I thought he was rejecting me for a moment, but he slid our hands together, lacing the fingers, and kissed one of my knuckles. "It took you long enough to ask," he said, glowing. "I'm over her, mostly."

"Three years in an abusive relationship," I pointed out.

"Even more time spent in one that's not abusive sounds nice then, right?" He gave my hand a squeeze. "You're the Hat-Man to my Robin."

I leaned in, and we shared our first kiss.

From that moment, I was lost. I'd do anything to protect him too. He would have made to choke Jim Moriarty himself if I was in danger, and I would have jumped off a building for him.


End file.
